As Strange As They Come
by NoneButNim
Summary: B/J, J/H Slash Everyone knows that the Joker is obsessed with our favorite Caped Crusader. What happens when that obsession turns into more? What happens when the Joker decides to pursue the vigilante? Trouble ensues. Rated M for graphic scenes.
1. It simply makes you stranger

_**A/N:** Alright, I've been itching to write a Joker!Fic, and now I finally have my break. A thanks to a fellow writer for inspiring me. She writes The Cake Games, so I advise you go an read it. This will definately be the shortest chapter, as it is somewhat of a backdrop for the plot and setting of my story.  
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_It revolves around the Joker's obsession with the Batman, that slowly twists into a sick form of unrequited love. Now he'll do anything to get what he wants; including his biggest scheme of all. After all, life is just one big joke.  
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_**Disclaimer:** I don't, and never will, own Batman._

**_WARNINGS:_** _This story contains scenes of graphic violence, scenes of rape, of explicit sex, and male/male relationship.  
This fic also holds disturbing content regarding the Joker and his persona.  
_

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**Prompt: **_"I believe that whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you...Stranger."_

The white-washed walls of Arkham Asylum were never a welcoming sight, especially not to the Joker. His fourth time gazing upon those annoying fluorescent walls, and they just seemed to get brighter and brighter with each visit. Hell; if you weren't crazy when you entered the place, you _would_ be once you left. With the addition of the ridiculously bright lighting fixtures, each room made the Joker lose his train of thought; always having to wrack his brain to remember what he had been thinking about prior to entering the new location. It was so frustrating, so off-setting. It drove him absolutely _mad_ that he couldn't keep a single thought in his mind. But two days turned into two weeks, and the Clown Prince found his fingers itching for blood. All because of those god-forsaken walls...

He just needed a plan. Well, he _had_ a plan. He just needed the opening to go through with it. And when you were the Joker, there was _always_ an opening. Said opening came that year on the fifth Tuesday of September, on the last day of the month...

The guard outside of his cell had allowed him to perform a magic trick when he brought the Joker his supper.

Smoke billowed into the air, fire licking its way toward the heavens as the Joker cackled, skipping away from the explosion. Batman had yet to find him, and the Joker was becoming desperate. Had the mammal missed the six o'clock news? The Joker's escape was all over every channel! How could _anyone_ miss it? The thought of his beloved Bat missing the central news... Oh; the agony! It irked him to no extent! The Bat Man's attention was supposed to be on _him_! He was the most important criminal, was he not? He was the most infamous (A title he in which he worked _very_ hard for to uphold)! When he did not show for the second murder, the Clown Prince came desperate to capture the attention of his favorite vigilante. This time, his plan was fool-proof.

Spread across the wide main street in downtown Gotham was a burning brand of the Bat Signal on the concrete, created by gasoline, and a nearby explosion (So maybe that was going a _little_ over the top, but hey- it was something to do). Spawning off of the signal was another sign, a large- and a rather elaborately drawn- _J_, with an arrow pointing south-ward. The police would leave it to the Caped Crusader to capture the Clown, and then arrive to haul him off. That was how it always worked.

The Joker wasn't kidding when he said that they would cast the Bat Man out- _like a leper_- when they no longer required his help. With every criminal slowly being locked behind bars, the statement rang more true. Gotham only needed their Dark Knight for so long...

Not twenty minutes later, and the Joker heard a familiar fluttering of material wings. His eyes slid closed as his tongue wet his lips, anticipating the Bat's move. No sooner had he smacked his lips, when he felt a swift kick to the back of his head, sending him off hurtling toward the concrete. The Clown laughed, shaking his head twice to restore his now-fuzzy vision. "Ahaha... What have I told you about hitting the head first, Bats?" He put a hand on his knee and pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly before righting himself. "It makes people all... Disoriented."

"Good. That makes my job easier." Replied Bruce from beneath his mask, aiming another kick for the Joker's face, who ducked beneath his leg in a clumsy dodge, nearly losing his balance.

"Using the same trick twice? Ahaha, boy you must be losing your touch!" A laugh laced with hysteria escaped red lips, before he felt a fist connect with his chest, causing him to hit the wall with an 'oof!', before he began keeling over, tears rimming his eyes from laughter. "Oh, Batsy, baby! I think you really a-" he coughed and began speaking through guffaws and gasps for air as a hand closed tightly over his windpipe. "-are losing it! Ahahaha!"

The Bat leaned closer, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "If I'm losing it, then why do I keep having to toss you behind the bars of Arkham every two weeks?"

The Joker's hands clutched at the gloved wrist before his throat, struggling to pull it away. He really couldn't breathe now. As if on cue, he felt his body slammed to the ground, air speeding to his lungs too quickly, causing him to choke. In his own defense, however, the Clown Prince spoke, leaning his back against the wall as he sat up, massaging the angry red mark about his pale neck. "That's some grip ya' got..." He said beneath his breath before rolling his head, eyes set on the mammal before him. "I told ya' before. You _complete_ me, Bats." He shifted to get comfortable, licking over his lips, dark green eyes fixated on the ice blue beneath the mask just inches from his face.

"Without you, what would I do? I thought I made it clear when I said that I wouldn't go back to ripping off drug dealers. No, no, I would never sink that low-"

"You're as low as they come."

The Joker ignored the interruption. "And besides, you can't afford to have me locked away forever. You-" he tapped at his own chest with both hands roughly, leaning forward. "You _need_ me around. I keep you busy, keep you in top shape. Without me, you'd be cast out like a freak, because deep down, that's all you really are- like me. We're _freaks_, and when society learns that you're no better than I am, they'll come after you, and lock ya up. We can share a cell! Just think abou-- uhn!"

A fist pummeled into the Joker's jaw, and a satisfying _crack_ resounded in the alley. Inhaling painfully, the Joker's eyes tried to focus themselves once again as the Batman grasped the material of his green vest, getting in his face. "We're _nothing_ alike. The only freak here is _you_. You're out of your mind if you think for one second that I won't hesitate to kill you--"

"Ah, but you haven't yet, have you?"

Both males sat in silence as the Joker's words sunk in. Bruce stared in shock at the clown before him, who was slipping in and out of consciousness, most likely from the blow he suffered to the head. As much as he hated to admit it, the Joker was right every time he brought that up. The Bat Man had not killed him, and never would. Damn his belief about the 'good in everyone'. What good was there to this monster before him? There couldn't be anything... He wasn't even human, was he? No; he definitely was not. No human being could _possibly_ be as out of their mind as the Joker was. It just went against the grain as far as human nature and human tendencies went.

But as he observed the Clown Prince, he saw the pain in those fluttering emerald eyes, he felt his heart tighten. What if the Joker was more human than he thought? He did not allow himself the time to linger on the thought as he heard approaching footsteps, General Gordon's voice filling his ears as he ordered his men to spread out to find the Joker. Batman drew away from the now-unconscious male and cloaked himself in the shadows, retreating to the rooftops to observe the scene. All the while, the Joker's words weighed heavily on his mind.

Would it really be that difficult to just kill the Prince of Puns?

_Yes. _Why?

Because as much as Bruce _hated_ to admit it, the Joker was, in fact, a human being beneath a mask, just like himself. Batman had a purpose thanks to people like the Joker. In some strange way, he felt that he owed it to the Clown Prince to spare his life each and every time.

And each time the Joker found himself lying awake in Arkham Asylum, surrounded by those god-damned white-white walls, his obsession for the Bat grew into something he was having trouble controlling. He was slowly becoming desperate, having dreams about him, hallucinating about him... He _needed_ the Bat Man. It was rapidly developing into something unhealthy, something... Strange.

In the darkness of his cell, the Joker laughed, the sound ringing throughout the empty hallways.

_"I'm coming for you, Batsy!"_

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**_A/N:_**_ Well, there you have it. The prologue. I feel so bad about not being able to update The One You Love To Hate, but I just don't have the inspiration at the time. I hoep you guys enjoyed, and please, please, PLEASEEEEE review! _


	2. Let's Call It A Date!

_**A/N:**__ I'm sorry; but I went back and added to this scene and made small changes. I didn't like how choppy it was. There's a lot of dialogue in this chapter, so I apologize for it, but it had to be done. Think of this chapter as a little bit of a prompt for the rest of the story. Well, thanks guys._

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"_You're missing the fireworks, Bats!" The Joker coughed as blood rose in his throat, laughing between broken breaths. "You have got to relax! Have some fun!" Again, he found himself forced against the wall under the mercy of the Batman, who was slamming his fist into the Clown Prince's face over and over again, causing the madman to grunt each time, laughter hitting a higher octave. "Th-that's the Batman I know!" He wheezed, gasping for air as the Caped Crusader back off ever so slightly. The Joker must have stuck a nerve, because now the punches were being redirected at his gut._

_"You know nothing about me!"_

_"U-uhn..! T-touchy, aren't we? Ahaha- hahaha- Ngh!" He had to give the Bat Man credit; he was hitting the Joker with everything he had. Never before had the Joker seen him this furious, not even with the Rachel/Harvey incident a year ago. Really now, was a simple kiss truly more important than the Bat's late love-interest? Apparently it was. He wrapped his arms protectively about his abdomen as he felt a heel come down on it. Really now, he didn't need to die from internal bleeding. Not when things had finally become interesting. This new side of Batman however… It intrigued the Clown Prince, doing nothing to quell his rapidly-developing obsession with the vigilante._

_When he felt a swift punch to his face, anger began to fester. As the fist came down again, he caught the mammal by his wrist, tugging it upward, his feet connecting to an armored chest, tossing him overhead, away from the blood-caked madman lying on the office building floor. When he heard the cracking of the desk, he knew that the Bat had broken it on contact._

_After fighting Batman for the past year, the Joker had developed the uncanny ability of holding his own, faring competition for Bruce. What used to be a scarred, lanky frame was now a lean, fit frame, even more scarred than before. Bruce was, no doubt surprised when the Joker had first begun attacking back, and with a fire inside him. It was amazing how someone like the Prince of Puns had suddenly turned into a witty street-fighter. Of course, he was still not a match for the Batman, but where brawn lacked, the clown had brains. But when it came down to fighting head-to-head, he had to turn to the brawn._

_The Joker rose to his feet, wiping the blood away from his scarred lips, smudging it over his white theatrical paint. Pained emerald orbs narrowed into slits as he tried to fix his fast-fading vision, his body feeling weightless. He watched patiently as the vigilante stood from where he had been tossed, ready to come after the male again. This was his chance. Just as Batman took a step toward the criminal, the Joker held both hands in the air, a detonator clasped in his left, thumb over the large red button. "Now, now… Hold up a minute, Bats. I just… wanna… talk." Batman froze in his step. Well, at least he had his attention. The Joker laughed for a few seconds, pleased with his plan._

_"Now, I have this whole building rigged. One simple, little push of this button, and we'll all blow sky high. You, me, my men, your men, and the people trapped downstairs." A malicious, slightly sadistic grin tugged at scarred cheeks as the Joker tilted his head, stepping closer to the Caped Crusader, his arm held out of reach in case Batman attempted to snatch the detonator. Nights before, the Joker had rigged the entire building , just for this occasion. Now he had Bruce right where he wanted him._

_"What do you want, Joker?" Barked the masked billionaire, lips drawn in a tight line as he tried his best to sound as intimidating as he possibly could._

_The Clown Prince simply laughed- quite hysterically- tossing his head back. "What- Ahaha, what do I want? Ohh, Batsy, baby, don't you already know? Ahaha!" When the masked mammal didn't respond, the Joker took the initiative to continue. "Why, I want you, Bats! You wanna know why? I'm gonna tell you whether you want to hear or not." The male squatted eye-level with the Bat, getting in his face with a devious grin. "You've been on my mind every waking moment. Ever since I saw you on the television with the Scarecrow scare-" he began giggling at his poorly-constructed joke before continuing, his sentences coming faster, his hand movements becoming erratic as his voice dropped to a whisper. "You see, the wheels in my head started turning," his finger jabbed at his own head for emphasis, eyes wide. "Gotham was too calm after you came around, people were… Starting to feel safe… But as soon as I heard about this 'Bat Man', I knew I had to have his attention! "_

_The Joker danced away from the rather shocked vigilante, walking to the window and staring out at the police cars that were cramped around the building. The flash of blue and red lights washed over the room over and over, creating a dark silhouette around the now-silent madman. He was in thought. In that brief opening, Batman had regained his mobility, his body unfreezing as he lunged toward the clown, knocking the detonator from his gloved hand. The Joker groaned in frustration as he was slammed to the file cabinet, a sickening crack escaping somewhere in his body. He assumed from his now-difficult breathing that a rib had been cracked or broken. "Sneaky!" The Joker tried to laugh, but to no avail. Batman slammed his fist into the back of his head, knocking the clown unconscious._

"Havin' a nice dream, Mistah J?"

The Joker stirred from his position against the padded wall, dark eyes fluttering as he adjusted to the obscenely bright lights. A smile spread across scarred lips as he faded back into the world of the living, gazing up into electric blue eyes. "Ah… Harley my dear..." He murmured, shaking his head vigorously to clear it from the fuzzy, light-headed clutches of unconsciousness.

The intern shifted the clipboard in her hands, tilting her hips slightly as she pushed her blonde bob behind her ear, a smile tainting her lips as she looked down at the Prince of Puns. "What… Might I ask… Brings you here at a, uh… Time like this?" A pink tongue stabbed furiously at red-painted lips, a wet, smacking noise accompanying it. Harley examined her nails, suddenly finding them more interesting.

"I just thought that I'd inform you that there's someone here that you might wanna see…" She replied, head tilting to the side, that devious smirk tugging at her lips. Apparently she had caught the attention of the Clown Prince, because he was now struggling into a straighter position, looking attentive. "I thought you'd be interested, Mistah J. We've got your Batman."

"...What?" The Joker's eyes widened considerably, tongue tracing over his lips. There was no way she could be serious, right? _No_body _catches_ the Bat Man. But there stood Harley with a smirk on her face and a glint in her eyes, looking rather proud of herself. "C- Can I see him?" Asked the clown shakily, his heart jumping into his throat. Excitement began building up, _bubbling_ inside of him, out of control. The Batman was _there_? In Arkham? It just couldn't be possible!

A ring of keys dangled from well-manicured nails as Harley stepped around the madman, crouching down behind him and working the straight-jacket loose. "Took me all night to get him, but I gave 'im the ol' one-two! And down he went like a bag a' bricks!" The intern tossed her head back and let a peal of laughter escape as she dropped the straight-jacket to the floor, pulling the Joker up by his wrist. "Come on, now, Mistah J! I'd be awfully rude if you kept him waiting!"

The Joker stumbled after her out of the cell as she dragged him, brows furrowed together in confusion to the highest degree. This wasn't Arkham. It was a... Basement? It was a basement with cells lining the walls. Before he could ask questions, however, he was dragged to a black iron door with a giant padlock across the handle. Harley used another key from the ring she had produced from her pocked, turning it in the lock to open it. It fell to the floor with a loud _clank!,_ but was ignored as she pulled the door open a little too slowly for the Clown Prince's liking.

When the door finally opened, the smile that had been spread across ruby lips fell rapidly into a deep-set frown.

In the middle of the room tied to a chair beneath a blaring central fixture of light sat not the Batman, but instead the young billionaire Bruce Wayne. "Bruce Wayne? Why would... someone like _me_ want to see someone like... Like- like _him_?" Asked the Joker, hands tapping himself on the chest before shoving to the brunette as to emphasize his point.

Harley nudged him, gesturing to the unconscious man. "No, no, no! That_ is _Batman, sugah!" She chirped, flicking the switch to light up the entire room.

Bruce Wayne stirred from the light that turned black lids to a sea of red, a searing pain firing through his brain at ridiculous speeds. Icy eyes fluttered open to meet the young girl who had seduced him earlier that night, and beside her, The Joker.

Instantly he jerked back, alarmed to find himself tied to a steel chair, and without his mask. The Joker approached him, bending at an odd angel to examine the startled man, studying him as if he were a different specimen entirely. "Bruce Wayne... Is the Batman? Bruce Wayne...! Ahahaha!" Maniacal laughter bounced off of the poorly-insulated walls as the Joker keeled over, clutching his stomach. "Bruce Wayne!" he couldn't get over it! How could he have been so blind?

He began clapping, skipping around the Batman once before halting, bending eye-level to the mammal and grasping his jaw roughly between his forefinger and thumb, squeezing with bruising force. "Now this... This is something I _didn't_ expect. But that explains what all of your money goes toward-- Batman and his little toys, like the Bat mobile!" A whoop of laughter rebounded once more before he calmed himself, dark eyes focused intently on ice-blue. "What's a' matter, Bats? Got nothing to say to me? Scared, Batsy, baby?"

Defiantly, Bruce met the madman's gaze, his own eyes narrowing. "Like I'd be afriad of someone like _you_"

"Ooh, ouch, Bats. That hurt... That really, _really_... Hurt!" The back of the Joker's hand came down hard across the Dark Knight's cheek before that same hand fisted into short brown locks, jerking his head back. "Look at me!" he growled, becoming dangerously close. Not being one to back down, Bruce continued to stare defiantly at the Prince of Puns. "Now, listen, and listen good. I'm gonna make a deal with you. You... You are going to do as I say, and in return.. I won't let slip your little secret. You're a smart man, Bruce. A smart, smart man. But you _plan_ things. And when people have plans, no one panics. But when its spontaneous... Everyone gets frantic! You see... I'm.. I'm like a dog chasing a car. If I got it, I- haha- I wouldn't know what to do with myself! But you see... I'm doing what I do best, and I'm taking your plans, and turning them around... Now, now, don't get angry..."

By this point, Bruce was struggling, trying to break free of the tight grip on his jaw that was beginning to ache. The Joker's words were grating on his nerves, and he wanted nothing more than to pulverize the sadistic murderer before him and ship him off to Arkham once more. Being this close made the Bat _sick_. It made him feel positively _filthy._

"Now, Brucey boy... I'm gonna let you go, 'because I... I am a man of my word. But.. Are you? Here... This is my card-" He reached into the pocket and pulled out a playing card with a joker on it, a phone number scrawled at the bottom and a time. "Monday night, I want you to call me, and we can set up a date. And you're _going_ to call me, right?" Before Bruce could reply, the card slid between his lips.

The Joker backed away, grinning and laughing, his arm draped about Harley's shoulder, who was still standing in the doorway. "Remember, Bruce, baby. _Call me_"

The door slammed shut as a purple haze began to fill the room. His lids lowered and began to close as the room turned completely dark...

When Bruce came to, he found himself lying in his own bed, comfortable as could be. Was it a dream?

"Master Wayne?"

Apparently not.

"Alfred... What time is it?"

"Six in the evening, Sir." Replied the butler in his crisp English accent, reaching over Bruce to dab a cloth dripping with anti-septic at a cut below his left eye. When had he gotten that? His eyes lingered on the worried expression on his butler's face, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. He didn't know how he'd gotten back, but he was pretty sure that he had been a mess.

"They know, Alfred... The Joker... He knows..." Whispered Bruce, his eyes closing as his brows creased, only to reopen them when he felt a comforting squeeze to his shoulder. He spared a glance toward Alfred, a distressed look gracing his normally serious face.

"Master Wayne... Why do we fall? So we can pick ourselves back up again."

Bruce smiled. "So you haven't given up on me yet?"

Alfred leaned forward, a smile unraveling on his wrinkled face. "Never. Now, what do you propose we do about this, Master Wayne?"

Bruce sighed, sitting up in his bed, eyes flickering to the drawn tapestry. "I'm going to have to do what he says... I'm going to have to play his game…"

Back at Harley's basement, the Joker allowed himself to indulge in a giddy waltz with the bubbly blonde, lifting her up and spinning her around. "You're a genius, Harls, a real genius!" Cried the clown, setting her down once the room began spinning at dangerous speeds. The winded intern giggled, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, I try, Mistah J, I try." The Joker dropped down on the steel chair that Bruce had been occupying no longer than an hour before, dark eyes focused on the beaming bombshell as she fidgeted with her hands before her.

"So, how'd you do it? I'm just dying to know! Well?" The Ace of Knaves leaned forward, hands clasped together, rubbing expectantly. Harley fidgeted under his gaze, before holding a finger to his nose.

"You just wait one little second, Puddin', and I'll show ya!" That being said, Harley bounced off. When she returned, the Joker's ruby lips parted, eyes growing wide.

Before him stood Harley, in a black-and-red body-hugging suit complete with a jester hat, hands placed on her tilted hips, her face covered in white pain, lips a deep purple. "So, whatcha' think, Mistah J? Like whatcha' see?" Now it was Harley's turn to be unprepared, because not five seconds later and she found herself arched backward toward the ground with a strong arm around her back, and a pair of soft lips upon her own.


End file.
